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There is certainly going to be rain; clouds curled fat wax in the sky,
readying to disrupt and feed the world beneath. The firmaments ethereal
heel stomped into with a buckle of thunder. A deluge swiftly followed.
Gasping comes the sky, and stop do five, several Genin taking shelter
beneath a grass-weave awn. Spackles of rain push in the open sides, and
dribbles from the roof.
"It's only rain," suggests one of the boys, a slender, gawky long-haired
kid.
"Shut it, Kenji. I'm not in a hurry to rush back to sensei."
All the others hmm in agreement. All except:
"What're looking at, stupid?" shouts one of the boys to Hibiki, the other
quite larger than the initial.
The youngster coughs. "I'm looking at a fool."
The large boy roars, and lunges for the other, but the others quickly
jump to, restraining. "Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing? Were you
gonna hit him? You know that's not how we fight." The struggle stops. The
others step away from the larger. "If you wanna beat him, you gotta do it
up here," says the fatter of the remainder, flicking his forehead.
"Violence is easy. Being most def is hard. You forget your lessons
already?"
Hibiki sheds his coat, tucking his sleeves into themselves, his body
already thrumming. Two of the boys next to him begin to scrap together a
beat: palms cupped over mouths and handclaps. The boy begins before his
opponent seems even ready of aware:

"Challengers rise to my kunai-sharp skills /
Call me that challenger with thrill /
Where will /
We all be when still /
When my fireball style scorches the skies /
Five nine /
Add a thumb make it ten /
To the kage with me; for you: to the dungeon /
What a tailed beast I am /
Ah, time to wrap it up, I guess /
Me, the best to ever win /
Hibiki the master nin!"

The boys hoot and holler beneath the umbrella of the awning, the rain
still dumping torrents and sticks of thunder to the ground, cracked sticks
of lightning. Hibiki thrust his fists into the air, triumph pricking his
blood. A snicker of thunder and it's bright cousin silence the eve — and
then eyes are on the other, the initiator, to offer his verse to the
powers of the sky. The boy coughs, hard, and plucks at the collar of his
shirt.
"All right," says the big boy, coughing clear his throat again. "Okay.

"But, but where should I begin? /
Always where I should: right at the end /
Of you, they'll say, the day Jashin took back /
The gift he had lent /
So here I am /
To finish the lesson /
My bingo book mission /
Capture that one, the big head /
Alive, or better yet: dead!"

The boys are too stunned to holler. They all stare, mouths agape at the
large one they all thought was dumb. Ding ding rings the sky. The end of
round one.